


Singing in the Rain

by snowkatze



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze
Summary: As Baz’s frustration grows, he’s goes out onto the lawn in the middle of the rain. But Simon follows him.





	Singing in the Rain

I grip my pen tight, as I stare out of the window over the lawn. I am overly aware of his presence behind me. He thinks I'm doing my homework, but I'm not. I'm not even moving the pen over the paper, in this moment I am entirely still. Calm. A moment of peace whereas a war is raging around me. On a normal day, I wouldn't be here. I'd have football practise and therefore a chance to finally escape him, if only for a few hours. But it's raining cats and dogs and practice is cancelled.

I watch as the rain pours over the world, and wish it could wash away my sorrows as easily as it runs down the glass. I wish it could put out my burning heart, I wish it could save me from the flames eating me alive. Or, not alive. After all, I'm dead already.

I can hear him shuffling on his bed and wonder why he's not leaving. Why is he putting me through this torture? Hasn't he hurt me enough already?

I'm not being fair on him, I know that. I'm perfectly aware that none of this is his fault, neither the increased beating of my dead heart, that doesn't feel dead at all, nor the anxiety seated in my stomach due to the knowledge that one day, he will end me. But it's not fair on me, either.

I can hear crunching behind me, as he stuffs his face with something that are probably left-overs from today's meal. I spin the pen in my hand and calculate my options.

Maybe I should just provoke him until he almost goes off. That'll get him leaving. But I'm tired of playing games. I'm so tired of it all, of waking up every morning to this disaster of a thing that I'm not even able to call life. If one would at least let me have that, the privilege of calling myself alive. But I don't, and Simon Snow is sitting across from me, twice as alive as I ever could be. It's almost as though sparks were flying from his body. And I'm flammable, one day they'll catch me.

I could ignore him and go back to my studies. But I'm not good at ignoring him. There's no such a thing as 'casual' with Simon Snow. I'll lose my mind if I treat him normally, or worse, I'll cave in. So my only option left is to comply to the role I've been given, which is to be his enemy. Even though I'm falling apart underneath it all, I can take it. But not today, I don't think. It's been going on for too long. I've been here for nearly eight years, with Simon Snow a few feet across from me, and I've had it.

I don't say a word when I get up. I don't even spare him a glance. (But I do look at him from the corner of my eye, catching a glimpse of bronze curls and the mess he's making while eating. It takes all my strength not to turn around and push the crumbs off his face.)

My heart is so heavy, if I swam in a lake right now, it'd take me down like a stone.

I move across the great lawn and I'm soaking wet before I know it. I want to get out of here. Out of the room, out of Watford, out of the entire world. I watch a bird fly far above me, but not even the birds fly high enough. I wish I knew a spell that could turn me into something else entirely. I wish I could shed my skin like a snake and take on the life of somebody else. (Of somebody who _is_ alive, perhaps.)

Nobody should ever be in this much pain. Nobody deserves this, not even me. And I know of somebody else who suffers like me. (Maybe not the same way, but I know he suffers, too, and I just want to ease his pain. I want to be his medicine, I want to heal him. I want to be more than just another inconvenience. But I can't be that for him and it's driving me insane.)

I don't know how to deal with this any more. I feel the wetness of the rain on my skin. Before, I didn't bother putting on a coat. I close my eyes, and the cold at least provides some relief. It serves as my distraction.

I turn and spread my arms to make the affected surface as wide as possible. It's not enough. I let myself fall backwards in the grass, pain immediately shooting through my pain. It's good, it shifts the pain in my heart to a physical place. Physical things are easier to fix.

I grasp the grass with my fingers, firstly just feeling it, slick against my skin, then I tear it out, the dry soil underneath digging in my palm. The ground is so dam beneath me. The rain comes down at me mercilessly, and yet it grants me a minute of not thinking of Simon Snow. Some days are harder than others, and this is a hard day. I just want it to end, I want to quit playing the game that is not a game but cold, harsh reality, involving a dead body in the end. A winner and a loser. (I'm losing.)

And suddenly, the glass is overflowing.

I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.

It's a scream of the utmost pain, an animal-like scream, it's rough and real and  _me_ . It convinces me that there still is a  _me_ inside this shell. I still exist. I'm real, the rain on my face is real, my hair sticking to my face is real, the hard ground is real. I can't believe that I still exist beside Simon Snow.

People are inside, nobody will hear me. And that's just the perfect metaphor. I'm outside in the storm and I'm screaming in agony and nobody will come and save me.

I sit up again as this realization hits me. My days are counted. Eighth year is almost over, and I know that I won't live past that. Every moment might be the last of that sort. Life is short for anyone, but I'm at an unfair disadvantage. Mine will be even shorter. (Shorter than hers, even.) And nobody is going to come and save me. And I'm not going to save myself.

That's when I feel a hand on my shoulders. I flinch, because for a second I think that I was wrong, that someone  _has_ come to save me, an angel, or I don't know, anyone.

But when I look up, it's Simon Snow, the one destroying me. His a hero, but not for me. I yank my shoulder away, because that's what I do, no matter how much I crave his touch.

“Have you been following me again, scumbag?” I gnarl and try to put some distance between us. He follows my steps. Typical.

“I saw you from the window. And then – then I heard you scream. Baz, what – what are you doing here?”  
“I was hoping to drown in the rain, so I could finally escape the world that has _you_ in it,” I say, and it's not even a lie. “Wouldn't that be a win-win for the both of us?”  
“Are you okay, Baz?”  
He raises an eyebrow. I almost laugh.  
“Of fucking course I am. I'm freaking peachy, Snow. Okay? I am more than okay. I couldn't be better. I'm the king of 'okay'.”  
“I'm serious. I don't know, I... I've never heard something so....”  
“Pathetic?”  
He lowers his gaze.  
“Heart-breaking,” he whispers. And that's how I know that he means it literally. It broke his heart to hear me scream. No. It can't be. (Can it?)

“I just -”

He shifts on his feet.

“I just want to know if – I mean. Baz. I – I thought you couldn't – you wouldn't like, feel, like that, you know?”  
“Yes. Of course you did. Because I'm a cold-blooded vampire who has never had an emotion in his entire life. I get it, Snow. Gee.”  
“No, I didn't mean – I think, I just didn't let myself think, that you are, too... That you, too... I couldn't bear thinking it.”  
“I don't think I understand.”  
“But I can't look away from it now. I have to – Baz. Just tell me. Is there, hm, is there something I can do?”  
“Something you can do?”  
“You know, to, to help.”  
Un-fucking-believable. Snow and his god damn hero complex.

“Yeah, you could help me by throwing yourself in the moat to let the merwolves eat you up.”  
“Baz -”  
“No? Fine. Another way to help me would be to leave me the fuck alone.”  
“Baz,” he says, his voice still soft, and I feel like I'm so short of breaking in pieces. He has to stop. I almost insult him again, but then I feel his fingers around my wrist and I can't breathe, or move, or think. He has to let go off me, or I think I'll suffocate. But he only tightens his grip. I can't believe Simon Snow is touching me. _Softly._ I never knew he could be so soft, not to me. In my fantasies, he was always rough, because I couldn't imagine him in any other way. (Because any soft fantasy would have just straight-up murdered me.)

But now he looks at me with a pleading gaze. It's not even pitiful, just desperate. Desperate for me to listen. So he can help me. And I think, maybe, he's giving me a chance. (Could that be? Could I be soft with Simon Snow?)

I stay still and wait for him to say something, because at the same time I'm in pain and can't look at him. But maybe the pain would be worth not having to be his enemy. Maybe it would be worth it. I've gone through worse things before. So, I stay strong, and I give  _him_ a chance.

“Please, Baz, talk to me.”  
“Why would I do that?” I say, but I'm exhausted and there's no menace behind it.

“Because – I think – I think I feel that, too.”  
The rain is coming down at us and I allow myself to look into his eyes. They're just plainly blue, but so beautiful that I might drown in them.

“What?”  
“I think, we're alike, you and I. And I think you would understand me. If you'd let me in.”  
“Fine.”  
“Fine, what?”  
“I'll let you in.”  
He smiles at me tentatively.

“Okay. And in return, I'll let my walls down, too. Can we do that?”  
“I don't know, Snow,” I laugh. “You're the one who wants to try the impossible.”  
“It's not impossible. Just improbable.”  
He squeezes my wrist carefully, and suddenly I want to tell him that I love him. But that would only ruin everything, just when something was starting to be created. Small, tenderly. A touch on my hand.

“It's a bit much, sometimes,” I admit. It's an understatement.

“What do you mean?”  
“The pressure of it all. There's so many expectations. So many, that I don't even know what to expect from myself.”  
“You don't have to do that, you know. You get to make your own choices.”  
“I don't think I do.”  
“What?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“You're Baz Pitch, you're untouchable. You're my nemesis. And now you're telling me that you don't make your own choices? That's weak, Baz. I wouldn't have taken you for someone who follows orders mindlessly.”  
“You're one to talk. That's what soldiers do.”  
“Yeah, but you're strong, Baz. You're more than just a soldier.”  
“And you're not?”  
“I – I don't know. But I know that I don't want to be. And you get to make your own choices, Baz.”  
He laces his fingers with mine and I feel like my heart is going to leap out my throat. Does he even know what he's doing to me?

“It's not that easy,” I murmur, but as he's holding my hand, I'm not so sure any more.  
“I think it might be,” he replies. “Can't we just try it? Shut it all out? Just – close your eyes, Baz. It's just you and me, everything else doesn't exist.”  
I wonder how his mouth would feel on mine.  
“It's just me and you.”  
He's tugging my hand.

“And we aren't enemies,” his voice fades into a whisper. For a second, I think he might kiss me. I slightly open my eyes, just to find his face inches before mine. When did he get so close?

“What does it feel like to be loved?” I blurt out. (Is this what it feels like?)  
“W-what?”  
“Love. What does it feel like?”  
“I – I don't know what you mean. I haven't had the best experiences, you know, growing up in an orphanage and all. Why are you asking me that, Baz? There are people who love you.”  
“The last time someone loved me, I was five years old.”  
“That's not true.”  
He says it with so much conviction, I almost believe it myself.

“Nobody loves a monster, Snow,” I say and turn my head, but can't bring myself to let go of his hand.

“No, Baz. You're not a monster. And people love you. At least as much as they love me.”  
“Now, that can't be.”  
“Why is that?”

It's just him and me. Everything else doesn't exist. I think, when he said that sentence, my brain shut down. Because I feel my hand touching his cheek, but it's not me moving it. It's like my body's got a life of its own. And then I feel my lips moving.

“Because nobody – nobody – could ever love me as much as I love you.”  
The sound of the rain drowns out the silence, as his eyes widen. But I don't feel anything – no panic, no fear, no stress. Everything else is gone, and I'm at peace. And suddenly, there's one secret less to keep. I smile at him, sadly, and let go off his hand, so that he doesn't have to do it.

This is my moment. This moment is completely and entirely mine, and I will cherish it in my heart forever, however long that might be, for me. Then his face starts moving again, and I can't let him take the moment from me. I turn around, ready to walk away, but his hand catches my wrist. He turns me around and I'm forced to look in his face, at the drops getting caught in his hair. It's darker when it's wet, but still beautiful. I always knew Simon Snow was going to end me, sooner or later. He chooses sooner.

“You're wrong,” he whispers.

“About what?”  
“Everything.”  
I wait for him to ellaborate.

“You are not a monster.”  
He shakes his head.  
“And you are not a soldier.”

He moves just a little bit closer.

“And you are not unloved. And I can say that with certainty. Because they would be fools not to love you. Other people, who you don't treat terribly.”  
His gaze falls to my lips. I'm having trouble breathing.  
“And I, I would be a fool to love you. And... I think...”  
I feel his hands running through my hair and I'm frozen.  
“...I am...”

He comes so close that our noses are almost touching.

“...a fool.”

And then he's kissing me. His lips are wetter and colder than in my dreams. As he pushes forward, it feels like my heart explodes. I don't know what to do, but he does, and he leads me, so I follow with my chin. He's so close to me that I can feel his heart, that's beating a little faster than mine. There he is, and he's saving me.

Simon Snow is kissing me in the rain, and it's a fucking cliché, and it's fucking wonderful, and he's lighting a match inside my frozen heart.

 


End file.
